


it had to be

by clowning



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Praise Kink, Riding, Some Fluff, Vaginal Fingering, hints of pining, in which each of them thinks the other just wants sex but theyre both just stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 23:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowning/pseuds/clowning
Summary: "Watching Moze’s brown locks fan out over the sheets, Amara thinks that she would like a bit of preamble. Maybe a drink, dinner, some time to soak up this woman that she finds herself falling so, so hard for. Something more than mid-battle flirtations. Something more than just fuckbuddies."Sex and pining, babey.





	it had to be

**Author's Note:**

> BORDERLANDS 3 HYPE!!
> 
> MOZE GANG WHERE YOU AT??
> 
> for real tho, i havent written in a while on account of a crazy work schedule, amongst other excuses, but i wanted to write something for these two bc im already out here shipping mozara.
> 
> please feel free to leave a kudos or comment (or both)! criticism is always appreciated. hope you enjoy!

It’s late when Moze comes to her, as always. Most of the residents and passengers of Sanctuary III have either retired or hunkered down for a long night cycle at their essential work stations. The thrum of the engines and reactors fills every deck, with only the pump of music from Moxxi’s bar cutting through the veil. 

Yellow light slides across the floor as Moze activates the door and lets herself in. With her comes the ever-present scent of iron and gunpowder, and… 

Amara’s fingers twitch, her meditation pose faltering as heat blooms low in her belly. 

Perfume? 

Something sweet and sensual mingles with the leather of her jacket. A tease.

Amara rises from her place on the mat, turning to gaze at the woman that has ventured into her den, eyes raking over her form. Moze’s helmet is gone, exposing her choppy locks and the shaved side of her head. Further study perks one of Amara’s brows- she’s gotten a fresh cut. Her staple leather jacket hangs open, revealing the white tank top underneath, and exposing the fact that Moze has forgone a bra, her nipples poking up against the fabric. 

Surging forward, Amara meets her, large hands coming to frame her slim hips, thumb teasing at the tattoo there. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she wanted to. 

Moze’s palm slides up her stomach, tracing the muscle there with the scrape of blunt fingernails, stealing the words from her throat. 

Grinning up at the siren that towers over her, Moze speaks, low and sultry. 

“Hey, tiger.”

Fighting through the heated fog of arousal, Amara finally manages to respond. 

“Hey yourself.”

Moze just giggles, leaning up on her toes to smatter wet kisses across Amara’s throat. She finds Amara’s hands where they remain trembling at her waist, and guide them up, up until they cup her tits and husks, “Mmm, wanted to see you.”

Which Amara is about halfway sure is just Vladof military jargon for, I’m here and I’m horny and I wanna have sex. In that instant, Moze is so much more than she appears to be, this magnificent creature who can shapeshift from a hardened soldier to a seductress with a simple tilt of her head. She leans up on her toes to kiss Amara, licking into her mouth and nipping her lower lip.

The air in her lungs gets burnt up like fuel with the push and pull of their kiss, her heart pounds and Amara is certain that no battle or brawl has made her feel so alive.

With hardly a sweat or second thought, Amara shifts to grip the backs of Moze’s thighs, hauling her up. Moze yelps, startled, but before Amara can backpedal or apologize, her exclamation morphs into a moan as she hooks her legs around Amara’s waist, bucking her hips against the siren’s hard abs. 

Moze breaks the kiss, fists a hand in Amara’s hair. “Take me to bed.”

Amara shudders.

There is little preamble in their trysts, only the mutual understanding of desire, for each other, for pleasure, for a cure for the loneliness that war brings. This time is no different. Amara walks them to her bed and lowers Moze to the mattress, gently, like a lover would.

Watching Moze’s brown locks fan out over the sheets, Amara thinks that she would like a bit of preamble. Maybe a drink, dinner, some time to soak up this woman that she finds herself falling so, so hard for. Something more than mid-battle flirtations. Something more than just fuckbuddies. 

She must be stalled by her thoughts, Moze catching her attention once more by hooking her fingers in Amara’s belt loops. Moze pulls her down, slotting their hips together and nipping at her neck, soothing with the hot swipe of her tongue. Amara groans, feeling the heat between Moze’s legs press against her own. 

“Fuck,” Moze swears, fumbling to unbuckle her pants and shuck them off. She doesn’t get very far, what with the buff Siren on top of her, and that in the fog of haste and lust, she forgot to take her boots off. 

Amara chuckles, watching her with a raised brow. She gives it a moment, just to enjoy the view of Moze squirming, before sliding off of the mattress to her knees before her. Stroking her calves, Amara murmurs, “Let me.”

Cinderella in reverse, Amara muses, unlacing Moze’s boots, pulling them off and setting them aside. Peeling her socks off, Amara kisses her ankles and shins, rising until she licks and sucks at Moze’s thighs. Glancing up through her lashes, she sees Moze has propped herself up on her elbows, watching with rapt attention. 

She rises and kisses Moze’s stomach, thumbing at the zipper of her pants. Moze’s breath comes in shaking huffs, her hips twitching and bucking. She stutters, “God- come on, please-”

“Hush.”

Amara places one large hand on Moze’s hip, covering her tattoo and effectively pinning her down. “Behave.”

Moze screws her eyes shut, choking on a moan. She clutches the sheets, her body on fire. Pleased, Amara shucks Moze’s pants and boyshorts over her sleek hips on one fluid motion. Laid bare, Moze shivers and Amara peels the garments the rest of the way off and tosses them aside. 

Hands on Moze’s knees, Amara spreads her legs, watching the way her cunt drips, flushed and throbbing. Kissing up her inner thighs, Amara stops short of where Moze needs her most. Ignoring her whimpers, Amara just traces the back of her knees with callused fingers. 

“Take off your jacket and shirt. I want you naked.”

“Ahh, god.” Trembling, Moze lifts up, grappling with leather and cloth until her chest is bare, nipples rosy and stiff in the cool air.

“Good,” Amara praises her, leaning to take one nipple into her mouth, teasing and flicking with her tongue. Releasing one shaking knee, Amara slides her fingers up to her other nipple, pinching and twisting, pulling desperate mewls from the woman below her.

“Ah! Amara- ahh, f-fuck..,” 

Easy as could be, Amara shifts their weight and swaps their positions, bringing Moze to straddle her stomach. Amara groans as Moze’s wet heat meets her bare skin, gripping her hips and holding her in place. 

Their eyes meet, pupils blown with adrenaline and ecstacy, searching. Moze gives her one resolute nod, yes, I want this.

As if it was something she said out loud, Amara responds, “Good.” 

Gingerly, she takes Moze’s hand, lacing their fingers together, tender and gentle. With a chaste kiss to her knuckle, Amara releases her hand, reclaiming her hold on Moze’s sharp hipbones. She pulls her forward, smearing her melt over her abs, ripping a moan from Moze. 

“Fuck yourself, Moze.” 

Eager to please, Amara and herself, Moze slides her palm down her belly to her navel before Amara catches her with a tsk.

“No hands.”

Amara smirks as Moze curses, face red as she fights through the embarrassment and how it throbs in her clit and makes wetter and wetter. Sitting up, Amara kisses her, sucking on her tongue, voice rumbling against her swollen lips. “Come on, you want to come, don’t you?”

Moze nearly cries. She does, fuck, she wants to come. But more than that, she wants to please Amara, to have her praise. So she grips the Siren’s muscular shoulders, steadying herself as she battles through the humiliation, and rolls her hips.

It rips a moan from her, the pressure of Amara’s hard abs on her aching clit. 

“There you go, good girl.”

Moze shudders, picking up a rhythm, mindless pleas spilling over her lips as she tumbles towards an orgasm. She’s so damn wet, making slick sounds as she grinds on Amara, desperate. 

Meeting her glowing violet eyes in the darkness, Moze begs. 

“Please, please, I need- fuck!- need you inside me-”

Amara just gives her hips a playful squeeze, pulling Moze down to a stop. Moze chokes on a wail. 

“Tell me what you want. Be specific.”

Moze bucks against Amara’s hold, frantic for relief. To no avail, Amara holds her still and steady. Finally, Moze takes in a shaking breath and speaks, her voice cracking. 

“I- I want your fingers. Three. I want you to fill me up and fuck me open- AH!”

Amara does just that, shoving three fingers in her wet heat, grunting as she feels Moze flutter around her. She fucks her, curling her fingers and thrusting deep, using her free hand to part the lips of Moze’s cunt, stroking her clit. 

Moze falls apart atop her, riding Amara’s fingers, bucking wildly, clenching and trembling. Something inside Amara, something possessive and hungry, awakens. 

“You should see yourself,” Amara growls. “Making such a mess. So wet for me.” 

Moze nods fiercely, her rhythm haphazard. “F-for you. Want you so fucking bad.”

“Well,” Amara presses Moze’s clit and watches with delight as her hips stutter and she curls in on herself. “I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for days.” 

Heat swallows Moze up, has her gasping. She sobs. 

“I want to bend you over and fill you in every hole. I want to choke you on my fingers. I want to make you mine.” 

“And you know what,” she says. “I will.”

Its all the warning Moze gets before Amara slips a fourth finger into her and fucks up into her, hard enough to punch the wind out of her lungs, to feed the inferno within her. The bed creaks beneath them. Those thick, callused fingers curl inside her, reaching the deepest places that have Moze moaning and clawing at Amara’s shoulders.

“Amara, please…”

“You’re so tight. You take me so well.” 

Moze sways from the force of Amara’s thrusts, curling her fists in the leather of Amara’s vest, scrambling for an anchor, lest she be swept away. Her chest heaves.

Amara pinches her clit and twists and Moze comes, body going rigid as all her breath escapes her. 

She slumps, boneless and spent, burying her face in Amara’s chest. She catches her breath, trying to regain her senses. Amara pulls out of her, wiping her fingers of the sheets before carding her fingers through Moze’s hair. With her other hand, she caresses her back, coaxing steady breaths from her. 

A few blessedly quiet moments pass. Amara ignores her own need for the time being, content to simply press a kiss to the crown of Moze’s head. 

Moze hums, kissing Amara’s collarbone before she sits back up. “Okay?” Amara asks. 

Moze just grins, working her fingers under Amara’s shirt and teasing the skin there. “Your turn.”


End file.
